Harry Potter and The Shadow Of Death
by Giberson5
Summary: One night long ago, Voldemort came to Godric's Hollow to kill Harry Potter. Instead, he left Harry with a scar, a shard of his soul, and a dark gift. After nearly dying at the hands of his aunt and uncle, Sirius takes Harry in, protecting him and helping him hide his powers. On Harry's 11th birthday, he gets a letter from Hogwarts...
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: prologue

Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, laid down in his cupboard beneath the stairs, and like many times before, he was hurt. His cupboard was his home, his prison, and his sanctuary. After uncle Vernon finished a beating, this was where he recovered and licked his wounds, both physical and emotional. It did not seem odd or disturbing to Harry that his guardians would hurt him, starve him, and degrade him like they did. Even though he could probably guess that not many children were treated like this if he sat down and thought about it, he just couldn't see anything out of place about the whole thing: it was the only hell he had ever known.

But something was different, this time.

Vernon, in his rage, had taken his beatings two steps too far, and Harry's emaciated body was already starving to death. He had nothing left to give to the wounds that cried out to be healed, and barely enough strength to keep his heart and lungs working. And soon, he wouldn't have enough strength to do even that.

Harry was dying.

Harry was only aware of this fact as an uncomfortable anxiety in his chest, sent by some animal part of him that understood what death was and knew to fear it. But Harry was only 7, too young to wrap his head around the idea of his own mortality, so he ignored the feeling in his chest and instead dreamt himself away from his suffering, and his protesting instincts could do nothing to call him back.

But there was something else in Harry that knew what death was. A bright singularity buried deep in Harry's soul that radiated power and knowledge, a voice that had whispered into Harry's ear since the day he was born, teaching him how to do impossible things. Even now, that bright spark kept Harry's body alive when it should have already died. It could tell Harry how to escape; indeed, it could have told him how to turn night into day if he was ready to listen. But as hard as it tried to speak to him, Harry could not hear, and his magic could do no more to save him.

But still, Harry would not die tonight.

There was something else inside him, a darkness that was both him and not him, kin to his magic yet completely alien. It had slept in Harry for 6 years now. Harry knew not of it, his instincts knew not of it, and his magic knew not of it. Soon, the world would know of it.

And so the story begins, not with dark lords and betrayals, but with a lonely, neglected boy dying under the stairs of a house on Pivet Drive, and the darkness within him opening its eyes.

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Sirius checked his pocket watch.

_He's late._

Dumbledore's visits were always big events for him and Harry, and rarely the good kind. For some reason, they were always prepared to fight to keep the old wizard from taking Harry away. He assured Harry that Dumbledore would never take him away, but all the same, they always got their story straight beforehand. Especially this time. Sirius looked over at his grandson, who was aimlessly transfiguring an apple into an orange, then a giant marble, then a rat.

There were 3 things amiss here: first, Harry had only just turned 9, and should not have been able to perform that caliber of magic for another 4 years at least; second, he was doing it without a wand.

And that was supposed to be impossible.

Of course, there was only 1 thing that really worried Sirius, and that was the new scar above Harry's left eyebrow. It wasn't as noticeable as the lightning shaped that Voldemort left him, and it would probably fade in a few years, but just looking at it made Sirius' blood boil. Harry had been playing with a friend of his, Neville, when they were spotted by some older kids. Obviously, the boys made a habit of picking on the young Longbottom whenever they saw him. They made fun of Neville's parents, locked away in St. Mungo's ward for the incurably insane, and Harry, true to his nature, defended his friend. Only, with Harry, this meant using magic.

What he did could be passed off as accidental magic, at least on paper. But the children reported that Harry raised his hand and deliberately sent one of them flying with telekinesis. No one would believe them, because conscious magic like that didn't come from 9 year old boys, especially if they didn't have a wand. That was just impossible.

A confrontation ensued, ending with one of them throwing a rock that knocked Harry unconscious and nearly cut his eye out. If it had been Sirius and not Neville's grandmother that had seen this, those little monsters would have seen what real magic looked like. The old woman called the incident in, and the boys would be dealing with some heavy consequences, but that didn't take back what they did to Harry. The boy had more scars than the two of them had ever bothered to count, and even one more was unacceptable in Sirius' eyes.

The fireplace flared green, and the old bearded wizard stepped into Black manor, his eyes twinkling. Sirius had known the man since he was a child, and had fought with him against Voldemort in his days in the Order, but he still couldn't forgive him for placing Harry with the Dursleys. That one night at St. Mungo's, the night they found Harry inches from death, Sirius had hooked his old headmaster in the jaw, and had nearly challenged him to a duel. Fortunately, Harry was now securely in Sirius' custody, as he should be, and the headmaster had made no further attempts to seize him now that Harry had no more blood relatives to form a blood ward with. All that he asked for was the occasional visit, just to check on Harry and monitor his "condition", which had begun to manifest itself soon after he had escaped the Dursleys.

The old wizard bowed his head, "Good afternoon Sirius." He turned to Harry, smiling behind his thick beard. "And good afternoon to you, Harry."

Harry smiled back, though his smile seemed too sad for the face of a nine year old.

Sadness flashed over Dumbledore's face. He quickly hid his grief behind a smile, and spotted Harry hiding his half transfigured apple below the table.

"You don't have to stop playing just for me. In fact, I'm a bit curious, why don't you give us a show?"

Harry's shy smile faltered, but he put the apple back on the table obediently. He hesitated.

"What do you want me to do with it?"

Dumbledore stroked his beard in thought, then smiled. "I bet you can't turn that apple into an orange!"

Harry grinned, looking a bit more like a 9 year old now. Sirius realized that, other than himself and maybe Neville, Dumbledore was the only person who could make him do that.

"I was doing that before you came in!"

Dumbledore went back to stroking his beard. "Hmm…." His eyes lit up and he snapped his fingers. "How about you turn that apple into an apple _tree_?"

Harry frowned in thought, and looked down at the apple, placing his hands on either side of it. For a moment, nothing happened, and Sirius was about to suggest that they skip the exposition, but then the apple began to change.

The red skin peeled back, turning a more brown shade and forming a circle around the flesh of the apple, growing and shifting until it had formed a small garden pot. Harry smiled, pausing only for a second, before pressing his hands a bit more firmly on the table. Sirius' eyebrows lifted as the white exterior faded brown, then black before crumbling into soil.

_This isn't just transfiguration…._

The soil expanded to fill the pot. Harry paused again, trembling slightly. He gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white, and the soil in the pot began to shift. Soon, a single leaf popped out, which quickly grew into a full sapling. It rose and branched out, it's green stem hardening into a wooden trunk and branches, which began growing leaves, and still it continued to grow. Harry enlarged the pot and created more soil, making room for the expanding tree. It grew and grew, and Sirius began to worry that Harry was getting carried away. Dumbledore, obviously thinking the same thing, gently placed a hand on the boy's shoulder to stop him….

Harry recoiled from the touch as if burned, and tree instantly caught on fire. Furniture in the room bagan to shift and shake, and panic flashed over Dumbledore's eyes.

"Harry….."

Harry looked up, startled. Then he looked up at his tree, and realizing what he had done, looked quite guilty. He bowed his head and hunched up his shoulders, and the tree began to crumble into ashes. Instead of leaving a pile of burnt wood and leaves, though, the ashes seemed to crumble into smaller and smaller bits before vanishing completely.

_Vanishment? That's a new trick..._

Harry looked up at Dumbledore, close to tears.

"That doesn't usually happen….."

Dumbledore nodded understandingly. "I know, and I'm glad you were able to keep something like this from happening the other day with those bullies." Harry's cringe wasn't lost on Sirius.

"I just sort of pushed one of them, and they all got really mad." He reached up to his forehead, touching his new scar.

Sirius fumed, "I would have done more than 'push' those little dirtbags if I had seen them….."

Dumbledore frowned. "Now Sirius, not in front of Harry."

Sirius scoffed, but didn't say anything else.

Dumbledore looked back to Harry. "That was some impressive magic you just showed us, Harry."

Harry gave a weak smile, speaking in a shy voice hardly above a whisper, "I've made bigger things."

Dumbledore shook his head. "That wasn't just transfiguration, though that still would have been impressive if it was. You didn't just take the seeds and transfigure them into a tree, you poured energy into them and made them grow naturally. I also saw you accelerate the decomposition of that…." Dumbledore paused, realizing he was using some very big words for a child who had only been attending 1 year of schooling. "In short, Harry, you were using life magic, some very complex and very powerful magic that some people never learn to use, even with a wand….."

Harry's smile evaporated. Sirius was proud of him, proud that he was different. He could do things that even Dumbledore couldn't do, but to Harry, that just made him a freak. Sirius put on a fake smile, trying to cheer him up. "The first few years of Hogwarts are going to be pretty boring for him, huh? Everyone will be trying to cast hover charms and transfigure matches, and Harry will be off making dragons or something…."

Dumbledore frowned. "Perhaps Hogwarts may not be the best place for Harry….." Harry's head bolted up, looking to Dumbledore then to Sirius, eyes wide.

"He'll go," confirmed Sirius, almost growling, "It's where he belongs, with kids his age."

Dumbledore sighed. "I suppose you're right, though I am a bit concerned. If Harry can't rein in his magic by the time he comes of age, I'm afraid of what the other students might see." Dumbledore looked to his left hand, skeletal and crippled, a reminder of how dangerous Harry could be when pushed.

"Or what might happen to them…."

Harry saw where Dumbledore was looking. He knew that it was him that somehow did that to the old wizard's hand, but he said that he couldn't remember doing it. Still, that didn't keep him from being ashamed.

Sirius wouldn't have it. "It's not his fault, it's never his fault, people keep messing with him and he just keeps giving them what they have coming. By the time he's of age to go, kids will be old enough to know who he is and respect him for it. And if they don't…" Sirius grinned. "Then Harry will have a good enough hold on his magic to give them what's coming to them _on purpose._"

Harry smiled, embarrassed but assured, and though Dumbledore didn't approve of what Sirius was saying, he didn't dare refute it and hurt Harry. Instead, he just smiled.

"Well, while I'm here, I want to ask you some questions."

Harry nodded, it was what Dumbledore was here for.

"No scary changes, right?"

Harry shook his head. "Not for almost a year."

"Good," nodded Dumbledore, "And those other changes? Can you still do those?"

Harry nodded, sending his hair into a cascade of color as he did so. "I have to try really hard, but I can change my face now, too."

Dumbledore frowned, "And you're sure you were never able to do that before you came to live with Sirius?"

Harry nodded again. "I would have noticed if I could. Before, when I lived with….." Harry's voice caught at their names. Sirius hated that they were still hurting him, even after being dead for over a year.

"Them…" Harry continued, "when I lived with them, I think I was too sad to do it."

Dumbledore's eyes broke with sadness. It was his fault that Harry had been sent to live with those monsters, and Sirius never let him forget it.

"I'm glad you're feeling better, now." He said, almost a whisper.

Sirius pitied him, for a moment.

_What he did was horrible, but it's got to be killing him inside…._

Dumbledore cleared his throat. He began asking some other questions. Some questions were medical, making sure that Harry was at least _beginning_ to recover from his time at the Dursleys': Had he been eating well? Was he sleeping any better? Did he ever feel like he was in pain? Other questions were about Harry's strange affinity for magic: Did his magic ever get away from him without him noticing it? Did his hair ever change color by accident? Did his magic ever do something he couldn't stop, even when he tried?

When Dumbledore had gotten enough assuring answers and cast a few diagnostic charms, he stood up and brushed off his robes. "Well, it seems like it's been long enough since anything's run amiss, I don't believe you'll need me checking in quite so often." He smiled at Harry, "Though I will be sure to drop by every now and again, just to visit."

He stood and turned to leave, then paused, as if forgetting something. "Oh!" he exclaimed, reaching into his pockets. "I almost forgot."

He placed a chocolate frog on the table in front of Harry, prompting a smile. "Chocolate frog. There's always a surprise inside, though unlike Bott's every flavor beans, you always know that it's going to taste delicious."

With that, Dumbledore nodded to Sirius and took the floo back to Hogwarts. Sirius looked back to Harry, who now held a very strong interest in the Famous wizards/witches card he had found in the chocolate frog package.

"Hey Sirius…."

Sirius smiled and looked over Harry's shoulder. "Watcha got there?"

It was Merlin's chocolate frog card. Harry looked up to Sirius. "Merlin….."

Sirius smiled. "Yup. The most famous, and probably the most powerful wizard to ever live."_ Too bad they_

_make so many cards of him, they're near worthless._

But Harry clung to it. "Could he do magic without a wand?"

Sirius could see where this was going. "He sure could, probably better than even Dumbledore can."

Harry ran his thumb over the image. "You mean, like I can?"

Sirius took a breath before answering. "No, I don't think that even Merlin could do what you do."

The picture of Merlin on the card looked offended, marching out of sight in a fit.

"Oh….."

Sirius ruffled his hair, and Harry didn't flinch. "I don't think he could use magic very much at all when he was your age. He's just a record to beat, kiddo."

"Yeah…." Whispered Harry.

Sirius looked at Harry, a mix of pride and worry mixing oddly in his chest.

"Come on, we said we'd visit Neville after Dumbledore left, I'm sure his grandmother will be happy to see you looking all better."

Harry nodded silently and got up to go change. Sirius looked where Harry had been sitting, his eyes drawn to the edge of the table.

The spot where Harry had been gripping earlier was scorched black, and half the table had been burned through in places. Sirius scowled, drawing his wand to repair the damage, and hoping that Harry hadn't noticed.

The kid had too much on his mind as it was.

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Author's note: This is my first fanfic, and really the first story I've ever written, so any and all comments are appreciated!

I'm American, so if anyone sees any incongruities with actual british culture, feel free to point it out and I'll update. Same goes with grammar, but be merciful, makes getting the right format _really _hard.

Please like and follow. This is my first time writing "seriously" and I would love as much feedback as possible, so I'll update often and hope people see it.

And yes, I made Harry a metamorphmagus, but I'll explain that as the story goes on, if I decide to stick with it.


	2. Chapter 2: Faces Old and New

Harry Potter and The Shadow Of Death

Chapter 2: Friends and Enemies, Old and New

Anyone who saw them standing next to each other would have assumed that Sirius was Harry's father. Some of it had to do with their similar hair: black, messy, and a tad over grown. More than that, though, every parent at platform 9 ¾ knew what first time separation anxiety looked like.

Despite his efforts to maintain his cool, Sirius was clearly stalling.

"And you're sure you have everything?"

"Almost pretty sure." Nodded Harry

"Your books?"

Harry patted his trunk, which concealed a small world of its own. "In the library."

"Clothes?"

"More than I'll wear."

"Spare galleons?"

"Locked away in the vault."

"Sneeze powder, instant darkness powder, extendable ears?" he paused "Fireworks, itch powder, dungbombs?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Sirius grinned. "And don't you forget it."

Harry laughed, reaching up and messing up his hair with one hand as he did so, just like James always did. If Sirius were to be completely honest with himself, the separation was harder on him than it was on Harry. Despite trying to act like a father, Harry was just too much like James for Sirius to resist acting like his playmate most of the time. Harry might miss his godfather, but he would go off and have fantastic adventures with Neville and whatever poor fools they picked up at Hogwarts, and would be too busy, too happy, to be homesick. Sirius, on the other hand, would sorely miss having a little piece of Lilly and James around to keep him company.

"What are you going to do when I get into trouble?"

Sirius mused. Harry had never really gotten into any trouble that Sirius hadn't somehow encouraged, or been _part _of."I imagine I'd be quite cross with you for getting caught."

Harry nodded. It would have been funnier if it hadn't been completely true.

Sirius sighed. "You know what to do if you feel things getting out of control?"

Harry patted the flask in his pocket. It wasn't alcohol, as some might think, but a cheering potion, one powerful enough to make a _Dementor _smile. It also had the side effect of making whoever drank it completely useless for the next hour or so, but if the alternative was Harry losing control….

"It won't get that bad." Harry assured him.

Sirius nodded, taking a shaky breath.

"You send me an owl the moment you need _anything, _all right?"

Harry smiled and nodded. "You can cry now if you want."

Sirius scoffed as if offended, but his mood lightened.

He heard the call for final boarding and playfully punched Harry in the shoulder. "Get on before they leave you and you have to walk."

Harry picked up his trunk. "I'll tell Neville you said hi."

"You do that."

Harry turned around and gave Sirius a sincere smile, a brief shift in his hair color betraying the conflict he was feeling. "I'll come home to visit for Christmas, yeah?"

Sirius nodded. "Definitely."

He looked distant for a moment before turning around and heading for the train. They didn't need to say goodbye, they just weren't _like_ that. Sirius gave his godson one last look as he boarded, and waited to watch the train leave the station before turning to leave.

_Damnit, _he thought,_ I'm going to miss Neville too._

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Harry watched platform 9 ¾ shrink in the distance.

_I'm going to Hogwarts….._

The thought softened the blow of leaving his godfather for the first time in over three years. He hadn't had a single good memory before going to live with Sirius, but with all the stories he was told about the place, it felt like he had actually been there with Sirius and Remus. He was looking forward to Hogwarts, and Sirius would've wanted him to be happy.

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After a bit of searching, Harry had found Neville's compartment.

Neville heard Harry enter and glanced back, a smile breaking out on his face. "Ah, Harry, glad you're here! Draco was about to show us how to make tea!"

Neville had no less than 8 wands pointing at him, all from older students with green and silver trimmings on their robes, Slytherin colors.

Standing among them was another first year who, though unsorted, would certainly be joining their ranks by the end of the day.

"Potter!" scowled Draco Malfoy.

Harry scowled right back. Despite him and his godfather each being part of a Most Ancient House, the Malfoy family had shown them nothing but contempt for the part they had played in the war; Specifically, Harry's part in ending it.

Harry scanned the small crowd Draco had gathered to back him up. Most of them were third year or above. "I see you brought enough friends to make this a fair fight," Harry said sarcastically.

"Yes Potter, friends!" He gestured to his posse of Slytherins, "I have a lot of them, you, on the other hand…" He gestured to Neville and the scared looking bushy haired girl, "only have the son of two lunatics and a _mudblood!"_

Harry and Neville felt things get more serious with the mention of Neville's parents; they had been tortured into madness shortly after he was born, and it was a sore point for both of them. Harry, after all, was the heir to the House of Black, after Sirius, the same house as the insane witch that had used the cruciatus curse on Neville's parents. Neville would never hold it against Harry _or _Sirius, but Harry still felt like he had a responsibility to defend him when the subject came up.

Harry stepped forward, wand out. "I have the kind of friends you don't have to buy, but you wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

Draco sneered, "Tough talk from someone who's about to get hexed."

Harry smiled dangerously, reaching for a bit of magic. "You got it wrong Draco…."

All the doors in their carriage all suddenly slammed opened, making some of the older Slytherins jump and almost making Draco trip over himself in fright.

Harry just stood there, smiling. "You didn't bring enough friends."

Just then, a prefect, who Harry recognized as a Weasley by the trademark red hair and freckles, popped his head out of one of the now open compartment doors.

"What…?" He looked around, confused as to why his door had flown open, and spotted the scene that been unfolding in the aisle.

He scowled, "Merlin's beard, you lot, could you at least have waited till we were at Hogwarts?"

Harry saw the older Slytherins slowly sheathing their wands, less eager to start throwing hexes now that there was a prefect watching.

Draco fumed, "Stay out of this, Weasley!"

The prefect smiled at Draco. "Congratulations, you are the first person I've ever heard of who got written up before even being sorted. I suppose you'll just get points deducted from whatever house you end up in, tonight." He looked around at the rest of them, eyeing them all carefully, then shut the door to his compartment.

The moment was lost.

Draco stood disbelievingly as the group he had assembled to back him up stepped away and dispersed. When he turned around, Harry's wand was less than a foot away from his nose.

"My friends are still here, Draco, how about yours?"

The tables turned, Draco sneered and marched off.

Harry sheathed his wand and turned around to face Neville. Next to him, the bushy haired girl had begun to cry.

"I just wanted to know how to make tea….."

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Retreating into one of the back compartments, Neville explained what had happened.

"So," He began "I was enjoying my train ride, having a rather pleasant day, and then Draco showed up. And usually, I could just stop there, end of story, right?"

Harry nodded. Just Draco being there was a bigger buzz kill than the plague.

"Well," continued Neville, "Draco's all high and mighty now that he's among his own kind, right? Comes up with his posse, starts running his mouth, and then_ this_ girl," pointing to the girl Harry now knew to be Hermione, "asks the most _random _question! Guess what it was."

Harry scratched his head. "She asked how to make tea?"

"You're damn right. She just walked right up and asked Malfoy how to make tea! _Tea!"_

The girl blushed. "I was trying to change the subject. They looked like they were about to get into it, and the boy…."

"Draco." Finished Harry.

She smiled. "Yes. Draco, he said he could use magic, specifically, he said he knew how to move Neville's nose…. Somewhere inappropriate. So, I asked if it was true that you could make tea without leaves, you know, with magic. Then he realized that I was, you know, muggle born, and he called me…."

"A mudblood!" shouted Neville, "After stopping you-know-who and all his blood purist crap, people are still buying into it!" He shook his head. "So I tell her not to worry about being called a mudblood, since Draco's full of something a lot worse than mud."

Harry could see how that could have been taken badly. "Is that when I came in?"

Hermione nodded. "Yeah. There was some other stuff too, but I don't think I should say it out loud…."

Neville disagreed. "It didn't really get bad until I called his family inbred. _Then _wands got pulled out."

Hermione blushed, but nodded, wiping away the remnants of her tears. Harry felt bad for her; she had just stepped out of the muggle world and onto a train to a school of magic, and not 10 minutes goes by before a bunch of prejudiced snakes start pointing wands at her, it had to be a rough introduction to magic.

"Don't worry about it, Draco's a git, and no one really thinks like that anymore. Plus, Neville's probably right about the inbreeding…."

Hermione nodded. "Thanks for helping us. How did you know that a prefect was in that compartment?"

Harry furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "I didn't."

She looked slightly taken aback by this, but she didn't seem to be upset.

"And to answer your question: yes, you can make tea with magic, no leaves necessary. You still need real water, though. That conjured stuff usually disappears after a while if you're not _really _good with magic, and you're not supposed to drink it. People don't usually make tea that way, though. The quality of the tea depends on how good you are with the spell and how much magic you put into it, and most people end up making it pretty nasty."

"Oh," she said, her eyes lighting up, "why aren't people supposed to drink conjured water? Does the tea turn back into water afterwards? Does the spell automatically make the tea warm? And can you transmute water into food, then? I thought you couldn't transmute food out of something that wasn't, and since tea has calories, doesn't that mean…."

Harry stopped her, "Whoa, one question at a time!" He rubbed his eyes. "Okay, so, why can't people drink conjured water? Well, you're not supposed to eat or drink anything that you know will either change or disappear once it's inside your body….."

And so they went, Hermione asking questions while Harry and Neville answered them.

All the way to Hogwarts.

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Authors notes.

Story's going pretty good so far! I'd like to answer some questions I've been getting, both from reviewers and friends:

Yes, there are reasons that neither Sirius nor Dumbledore checked up on Harry, and why they didn't catch the abuse. I'll cover that more in passing, later. Sorry!

This story is AU, so Sirius being free is just a factor I wanted my story to have, partially to balance out the effects Harry's abuse had on his personality. Peter _did_ still betray Harry's parents, so no doubt we'll hear the story of what happened.

Neville is still Neville, I've just taken into account the changes his friendship with Harry has had on his personality; I did _not _throw out his character and make a new one with the same name. Neville is Harry's best mate, so exactly how Harry has influenced him will be covered in later chapters. Rest assured, this is still a fanfiction, and I wouldn't _love_ writing about J.K. Rowling's characters if I didn't love the characters themselves.

That being said, I will be changing some characters, thought not _major _ones, for no other reason than to deepen the plot. Harry has new powers, he needs new challenges and new (and more powerful) enemies. How fun would it be if you knew every challenge that was heading his way and knew how he was going to beat it, especially now that he's _SUPER HARRY!_

And finally, yes: this a super Harry fanfic if there ever was one, but Harry is not invincible, nor is he even formidable as of yet. He can cast magic without a wand, but he is not particularly adept at dueling, so while he has raw power to rival most adults (though not Dumbledore or Voldemort, _yet)_, he still has limited spell choice, speed, dexterity, and reflexes. Just to give you an idea, Snape would _destroy _Harry if he had to face him right now, as would most any Auror, or even just a skilled 7th year. I don't know why giving him wandless magic should suddenly make him God.

Thank you for liking and following! Special thanks to those who wrote reviews. Again, this is my first time writing a story,_ ever! _Even negative feedback is appreciated. So keep reviewing, and if you like my story, please like and follow!

Feel free to point out grammatical, continuity, or referential errors.


	3. Chapter 3: A Mischievous Start Of Term

Chapter 3: A Mischievous start of term

Harry's head spun as he stepped off the train. During his conversation with Hermione, he had recounted nearly everything he knew about magic and the magical world. Just the mental exertion of sorting through and picking out that much information was enough to give Harry a migraine, yet Hermione, who had just familiarized herself with an entire culture and its practices in a matter of hours, seemed almost _invigorated. _

"How do you think we'll be sort…" she began.

"No!" injected Harry, "No more questions."

Hermione frowned, turning to Neville. "How do _you _think we'll be sorted?"

Neville's voice was deadpan. "You wear a magical talking hat that looks into your_ soul_ and finds what house you'll be happiest in."

Hermione smiled at Harry, unphased by Neville's respons. "See? Would that have been so hard?"

Harry cocked his head, smiling. "Is that _a question_?"

Hermione grinned, assured that, if he could joke, Harry's brains surely hadn't been _completely_ fried. Practically skipping, she reached out to hold Harry and Neville's hands.

Harry's heart jumped, and he yanked his hand back in panic.

Hermione threw him a confused look, her eyes betraying a hint of hurt feelings. Harry suddenly felt incredibly guilty.

"Sorry, I don't _do _hand holding," said Harry, his voice a vain attempt at joviality, "someone might see, snap a picture, and next thing you know it'll be all over the Daily Prophet."

Hermione glanced down at Harry's hand, which he was instinctively clutching with his other as if it were wounded.

Neville, sensing the tense moment, spoke up. "It's true. Someone caught me and him doing it when we were little, and people still think we're betrothed."

Harry chuckled past his nausea, but all the way to the sorting ceremony, Hermione didn't stop trying to make eye contact with him.

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The Great Hall was just as Sirius had described it. Floating candles hovered about above the tables, parting down the center to give a clear view of the ceiling, which projected the image of a beautifully clear night sky, despite it being cloudy out.

As they filed in, Harry grabbed seats with Hermione and Neville at the table set aside for unsorted first years. He looked around, eyeing the different tables. Gryffindor was the loudest table by far, standing out against the relative quiet of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. The Slytherin table, however, was practically silent.

Harry eyed the table beneath the green and silver banner. Most of those kids either fell into the "blood purist bigot" category, or were children of death eaters. He had a feeling like he wouldn't be making friends with many of the students at _that _table.

His attention was pulled back to the hat, which had begun to sing a merry tune.

That's _going to be searching through my head?_ Harry thought nervously.

An old woman, Professor McGonagall, began calling up students by name to get sorted.

"Hannah Abbott!"….

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Hermione had been under the Sorting Hat for a good 10 minutes, and people where getting impatient.

_"Hmmm..." _it whispered in her mind, "_Yes, difficult, very difficult. Valor, or genius? Which to choose...__"_

_Please, _thought Hermione, nearing the end of her rope, _just hurry up...__  
_

The hat adjusted itself. _"Alright, girl, I suppose it comes down to one last question..."_

Hermione waited.

_Yes?_

_"What are you: a coward or a killer?"_

Hermione started at the question. How did that help the hat decide whether to place her in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw? Certainly, cowards didn't belong in Gryffindor, but neither did killers. And how did being logical make you...

Suddenly, she understood.

"_Yes, you _do_ have a sharp mind, don't you?"_

_Coward,_ she thought, not a shred of uncertainty to be found.

The hat adjusted itself, its voice piquing with interest, "_Are you sure? You could be fantastic, you know..._."

_Coward, any day. _

The hat laughed, softly at first, but soon it filled the entire room. It laughed as it spoke, laughed so hard Hermione swore she could hear it crying...

"Gryffindor!"

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Harry felt the Sorting Hat enter his mind as it was placed on his head, and the feeling made him physically ill.

"_Wah!" _

Harry grinned despite himself at the surprised voice ringing in his head.

_Bite off something fowl?_

"_Why, I can't say you're like anything I've ever seen….."_

Harry felt the hat rummage through his memories. He felt his memories of his time at the Dursley's being opened like a half healed wound.

_I don't think I appreciate you snooping around there…. _

The hat adjusted itself on Harry's head. _"You shouldn't be able to even feel my prescence…."_

Harry frowned, the hat hadn't stopped running through his memories.

_I can do a lot more than that_

Harry ejected the foreign consciousness from that part of his mind, causing the sorting hat to nearly fall off Harry's head in shock.

"_That's impossible….."_

Harry, tired of having a voice in his head invading his mind, lost his patience. Reaching out with his will, he forced the hat's consciousness back, turning the tables and seizing control of it like he would a puppet.

"_Wait, what are you do….?"_

"Grrrrrr…." The hat growled out, fighting Harry's control, "Grrryyyffindor!"

Harry smiled.

"_The headmaster will hear about this!" _it exclaimed, outraged.

_Tell him I said hi, and that I'd be happy to have him over for dinner again, over break. _Harry shot back, _and also mention that I'm pretty sure that I could discern the ancient magic that made you, if he were to allow me to wear you again…._

"_If you think….!"_

The thought remained unfinished as the hat was removed.

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Neville sat down on the stool.

"_Huh, now this is a toughie. Fiercely loyal, and brave! Caring, too, a heart of a true Huffle…"_

_Griffindor, _shot Neville.

The Sorting Hat rocked back and forth in thought. _"Because Harry is there?"_

_Yes_

"_The boy can take care of himself." _It chided.

_No, he can't._

The Sorting Hat paused, mumbling as it sorted through Neville's memories. As it did, it stiffened, frozen as if surprised.

"_Huh….."_

"Gryffindor!" It shouted.

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Harry, Hermione, and Neville were all siting at the Gryffindor table. Hermione and Neville, however, couldn't get a seat next to Harry due to the group of Gryffindors now situated around Harry, which had gathered around and started asking eager questions after learning that he was the Boy-who-lived.

"Can you show us the scar?"

"Is it true you got it from Voldemort?"

"Does it really glow when you're around death eaters?"

"Did Voldemort scream when you killed him?"

The person who asked that last question was treated to a glare from Harry, which he cut off short as their attention was pulled to the podium near the head table, where the professors sat. Harry smiled as Dumbledore fidgeted with some papers, looking down on them through his half moon glasses, closely examining them.

"Before our feast begins, I have a few words to say to you all…" He began

He squinted at the stack of papers in front of him, "Snaklax, tumble, and jibbley. Now," he waved his wand, stacking the plates on every table high with an assortment of delicious food, "let the start of term feast begin!"

As the students worked their way through their dinners, and later, deserts, Harry found his way to a seat next to Neville and Hermione.

"The headmaster is a bit crazy, isn't he?" she asked

Harry nodded. "He plays it like it's an act, but in reality, he_ is_ just a bit off his rocker."

Hermione nodded, not the least bit worried that she was now the ward of a madman.

Neville jabbed Harry with his elbow, directing his attention to the head table.

"You think that's professor Snape?" He asked, pointing at the greasy haired man with the crooked nose sitting next to a man with a ridiculously large purple turban.

Harry blinked as an odd sensation ran through him. His _other _was rattling its cage, as if protesting the sight in front of him. Harry looked away, making conscious effort to suppress it.

"Yeah," he answered, "he matches Sirius' description."

Neville nodded gravely, turning his attention back to the feast.

After desert was served and the dishes cleared, Dumbledore approached the podium, again calling the attention of everyone in the room.

"A few more words, if you will." He didn't bother looking at the stack of papers this time. "I would like to inform you that the forbidden forest is _not _really forbidden, rather, we just couldn't find another ear catching word that began with 'F'. Rest assured, the werewolves, centaurs, acromantulas, and trolls that reside in the forest are quite friendly, and often treat young visitors to delicious baked goods." He paused, soaking in the absolute silence that had fallen across the room.

"Also, we have heightened the security in the third floor corridor on the right side. It is filled with deadly traps, high stakes puzzles, and a three headed dog named _Fluffy_. We would encourage as many of you as possible to try and get through our security, so we can know where it is lacking and needs improvement."

He looked around smiling, and began to turn back to his seat at the center of the head table before snapping his fingers, as if recalling something important. "Ah, almost forgot. It would seem that out caretaker, Mr. Filch, has been feeling a bit down, as of late. From what I understand, there haven't been any students dueling in the hallways for quite a while, and he rather misses hanging them from their toes over the edge of the castle. Feel free to start throwing hexes around _willy nilly, _and instead of joining us for dinner, you will be treated to a rather unique view of the beautiful Scottish landscape surrounding the castle. That is all."

He walked back to his spot at the head table next to professor McGonagall, who was rubbing her forehead in exasperation.

Harry cleared his throat as Hermione stared at him.

"A…. _bit _mad, you said?" she asked.

Harry scratched his head. "Well, now no one's going to duel in the hallways, go into the third floor corridor, or enter the forbidden forest."

Neville nodded. "I'd say that a good third of that was just an act."

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After a quirky little song, the first years were herded together and escorted to their respective dorms. Harry's group was led by Percy, who was having a grand time explaining the ins and outs of living in the castle when a small explosion, like a smoky fire cracker, went off inches from his nose.

Percy fell back, shocked stiff. Where he was standing, a short, human looking creature wearing a nightcap was floating 5 feet in the air, smiling devilishly.

The poltergeist's eyes fell on the crowd behind Percy, "Ah, 'ickle firsties, what fun!"

Percy, who had gotten his senses together, had gotten up to his knees and scowled at the little floating man with a look of extreme irritation and embarrassment.

"The Bloody Baron will be hearing about this, Peeves!"

Peeves looked back to Percy, grinning before shooting down into the center of the crowd of first years. The group divided, with a few screams, and he moved intangibly through the floor.

Percy got to his feet, brushing off his robes. "That was Peeves, the school poltergeist. We've had the best exorcists come to try and get him out, but….."

Percy shook his head and continued ushering the first years down the corridor towards Gryffindor tower. Harry, however, paused for a moment, looking back at the spot where peeves disappeared. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a dungbomb, and rolled it across the floor.

The pale, ghostly entity poked half his head up though the stone floor, then reached out and grabbed the gift to inspect it further.

Peeves smiled, cocking his head at Harry curiously. Harry stuck out his thumb and pinkie and held them over his ear and lips, silently mouthing _call me._

Peeves grin widened, and he flew down the corridor, laughing as he clutched his gift. Harry turned and jogged to his group, not wanting anyone to notice his absence.

Harry had big plans for this year.

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Author's notes:

Really short chapter, but this scene was important and didn't really meld well with others. Next one should be pretty long.

And yes, that bit with Hermione under the Sorting Hat was a reference to Christopher Eccleston.

Good news! We're out of the intro stage (I think), and we can finally get onto real story! Some unexplained parts of the plot will be addressed, such as Harry's time at the Dursley's and their ultimate fate, as well as Sirius' freedom and Harry's _other_.

As far as the Harry/Hermione ship, it could definitely happen, and will almost certainly be addressed at some point. However, they are both still eleven. If they _do_ hook up, it will be when they are older and more apt to want a relationship with each other. As things are, holding hands with your friends is still a thing for them (or at least for Hermione). Outside of Hogwarts, these kids would just be entering 6th grade.

Peeves is a favorite of mine, and we'll be seeing a lot of him. Contrary to what some might think, poltergeists aren't ghosts: they have never been alive in any way, shape, or form, and cannot really _die_. They are conscious, but don't usually have physical forms around which to operate. Peeves is an extremely powerful poltergeist born when Hogwarts was created, and has thwarted many caretakers who have tried to get rid of him, and even refuses to be contained by powerful enchantments. J.K. Rowling herself described him as "an indestructible spirit of chaos". (This is _all _canon, look it up!)

I'll also try and improve on existing chapters. I know that the last chapter left a little to be desired, so I'll be working with that one too as I go. Hopefully, all this writing will make me better, so follow the story and get alerts when the updates come!


	4. Chapter 4: Making Plans

Chapter 4: Making Plans

Hermione couldn't believe the week she had been having.

Hogwarts was nothing like any muggle school. Her charms teacher was part goblin, and had to stand on a stack of books to see over his desk. Her history professor was a ghost, and not in the figurative sense, he was an actual _ghost! _She had seen her charms professor lift things without touching them, her transfiguration teacher turn a desk into a pig. She had seen portraits talk, pictures move, and statues come to life. Once she accepted the fact that she would have to rethink everything she knew about how the universe worked, she found Hogwarts to be wonderful. A school inside a castle, it was really something else.

And then there was Harry Potter.

She had met the boy and his friend, Neville, on the train ride to Hogwarts, and since then had not ceased to confound her.

The boy had faced a gang of older boys, all armed with advanced magic, as their superior.

She had seen him wandlessly levitate their charms teacher, seving him from falling from his perch on top of a stack of books, with nothing more than a tilt of his head. The class assumed it was Flitwick showing off, but Hermione saw his confused look as he looked around the class.

In transfiguration, he had turned his match into a needle and made it catch fire upon striking it; she and Neville had only succeeded in making _their _matches slightly pointy and silvery. Neville, who had also seen Harry's earlier work with Flitwick, didn't seem shocked in the least, and in fact seemed to _expect _it. It was odd, then, when Harry quickly extinguished his needle when professor McGonagall came around, like he was hiding it.

In potions class, he verbally sparred with the professor after he was assaulted by a barrage of questions from discreet passages in the textbook, questions you couldn't possibly have answered unless you had made an effort to memorize the entire book before coming to class, as Hermione had done. What struck her, though, was the timing of Harry's answers. As Snape's anger mounted, his questions became more difficult, until by the third and fourth questions, even _she _had to seriously think about it for a moment before she came up with the answer. The instant she did, however, Harry blurted it out. The fifth question was particularly hard, probably because it had not been pulled from their text book. Still she took a jab at it, guessing the answer. To her shock, Harry gave _the same wrong answer._

The cruel professor smiled. "Wrong, Mr. Potter. It seems that even _fame _has its limits."

Harry just grinned and glanced at Hermione.

"Come on," he said, "step it up!"

At first, she could hardly even think, but quickly found herself having to hold in her barrage of questions of accusations. As they stepped out of class, Hermione cut him off and began grilling him for information.

He just grinned like it was a joke. "You think too loud."

Hermione's eyes nearly popped out of her head, "You read my mind?!"

Harry began shushing her, obviously not wanting anyone to hear.

"Yes, it's called legillemency. I picked up some while practicing an technique that defends against it, occlumency."

"And you…." She looked around, making sure no one was listening, "used it to cheat?!"

Harry shook his head, as if addressing a naïve child. "It's not cheating when the test is rigged. Besides, I could tell you wanted to answer, and in a way, you did."

Hermione was still fuming. "No, _you _answered the question, by _rummaging through my mind!"_ It was a whisper, but it came as close to yelling as a whisper could come.

Harry looked a bit guilty at that, at least. "I didn't rummage through your mind, I was only doing a bit of surface listening. I only heard what you were thinking right then and there, things you would have been _saying _had you not held yourself back."

She looked at him suspiciously. She _wanted _to trust him, but...

"And you didn't search deeper, didn't hear _anything _else?"

He shook his head. "No." Then paused, "Though I do know that you think Seamus Finnegan is cute."

Hermione _knew _she had never thought that. She sighed, "Don't ever, _ever, _use me to cheat again, ok?"

Harry nodded. "I promise…. To tell you first."

She huffed in exasperation, throwing a light punch to his arm. It had a little more force behind it than was necessary for a playful cuff on the shoulder, but she didn't mean to hurt him. Nonetheless, he flinched back, his jovial smile flickering for a moment before returning.

His reaction made her forget her anger so quickly that, later, she considered the possibility that Harry had _engineered _it.

She instinctively reached out, worried that she had hurt him, but he pulled back. Hermione suddenly felt like the worst person in the world.

Neville ran up behind them, clearly pretending that he didn't pick up on the tension, and began going on about how dreadful professor Snape was. "Can you that guy? When you missed that last one, you would have thought that Christmas had come early for him…."

They resumed walking, but Hermione didn't react to the conversation, only daring a few concerned glances towards Harry.

_Here's a riddle, _thought the part of her that belonged it Ravenclaw, _What faces down gangs of older boys without flinching, reads minds, and levitates wandlessly, but cringes at the slightest touch?_

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Harry didn't have to look around to see that they were getting odd looks from everyone in the common room.

Over the weekend, Harry had gotten tired of the awkwardness that had sprung up between him and Hermione. Really, he couldn't blame her; he had recoiled from her every touch since they had met, and now she thought that he was reading her _mind. _Harry didn't see it that way, of course, but how could he explain to someone who had never practiced legilimency, who had only discovered magic when she got her Hogwarts acceptance letter, that there was a difference between what you were thinking and what you _just weren't saying? _So, after yet another quiet lunch, where the two of them barely spoke to one another, Harry decided to put an end to their recent distance, and he knew just how to do it.

So, after leaving the Great Hall, Harry grabbed Hermione's wrist and dragged her to Gryffindor tower, though the common room….

And up the stair to the boys dorms.

Hermione's face went crimson as she realized where they were going.

"Harry! Girls aren't supposed to…."

Harry shook his head. "If it were against the rules, the stairs would have flattened and we would be tumbling back down _right now. _There are rules against _boys _going to the _girls _dorms, but it's totally fine the other way around."

Hermione gave a sudden pause. "That…. That doesn't sound right….."

Harry grinned. He had picked up that Hermione might not approve of wizarding society's more old fashion rules and laws.

"Well, I'm not complaining about it _now. _Come on."

He continued dragging her all the way to his room, where they received surprised and hesitant looks from both Seamus Finnegan and Ron Weasley.

"Uhhh…." Began the Irish boy.

Harry waved him off, turning his attention to the trunk lying next to his bunk. It was dark, almost pitch black, and trimmed with iron. It was unique, not lavish, in its decorations, and was pretty inconspicuous aside from its locks.

There were no less than 6 lined up along the front of the trunk. Harry pulled out a key, old and worn out looking, and inserted it into the first lock from the left. When he opened the trunk, there was a ladder, which reached much further down than the depth of the trunk itself.

Hermione blinked. "It's…"

"Bigger on the inside, _much _bigger."

He gestured to the ladder, urging Hermione to climb down. After a moment's hesitation, she complied, Harry following soon after.

When he got to the bottom, Hermione was already looking around the room that lied at the end. It was a spacious hexagonal room, with a door on two opposite sides and four walls lined with books.

Hermione was practically shining. "You have a library! You carry around a library in your trunk!"

Harry smiled. "Not just any library…."

Hermione shot him a questioning look. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that it's not just _any _library. This library has _a lot _of books…."

Hermione's face split into an eager grin. "How many?"

"Well, let's see…." He thought for a moment. "Every book that's ever been published, fiction, nonfiction, or reference…" He paused for affect. "And every book that ever _will _be published; there's a complete catalog of everything that's ever happened, _ever, _starting at the beginning of the universe, as well as totally accurate predictions of what is to come. And _that _is only an infinitesimal fraction of what's in here."

Hermione didn't move, but he could see her mind working behind her eyes.

"I don't believe you."

Harry raised one of his eyebrows. "No?"

"No, I don't. A library like that _can't _exist: that kind of infinite knowledge would make anyone with access to it omniscient. So no, something like that is _impossible, _even with magic."

Harry grinned smugly. "Check. The. Shelves."

Hermione was taken aback by this reaction. She looked around her, suddenly looking a little excited that something like _infinite _knowing could actually exist, was actually _attainable. _

With a shaky hand, she grabbed a book off the shelf, and opened it. She froze. She grabbed another book, then another, keeping at it for a solid minute. After she pulled out one last book and looked inside, she threw it at Harry.

"That's not funny, Harry!" She was grinning though, and Harry knew why.

"What's the matter, Mione?"

She shook her head. "These books are filled with gibberish." She held up a book from the shelf and held out the text for Harry to see. "These aren't even words, just letters and punctuation symbols and spaces."

Harry nodded. "So I was lying to you."

Hermione shook her head. _This _was the part that he knew she would like.

"Well, technically, no. If I had to guess, the text in these books is generated randomly. They're all the same size and they all have about the same number of pages. I suppose that those doors lead to rooms like this, right?"

Harry nodded, smiling shrewdly.

"Ok, so I assume that past these doors are rooms like this, and I'm guessing that it's possible for this to go on forever. So, if you randomly generate an infinite amount of books with completely random texts, I suppose that you will eventually find a book with completely legible language. There would be a copy of every book ever made, every book that will ever be made, and every permutation of every one of them, but that's because this library holds a book for every conceivable combination of letters and symbols! _You cheated!"_

Harry nodded. He would have liked to have seen her stumped so he could explain it himself, but he imagined that she rather enjoyed working it out herself.

"So even if you found a book that predicted what was going to happen…." He began.

"It would be useless, because you would have no way of knowing which predictions _happened _to be true and which ones are just fabrications, if you can really call whatever _this _is"fabrication". And the probability of finding something that even resembled a _language_ is beyond astronomical; every book has at least a few hundred pages, there are who-knows-how-many-hundreds of spaces on each page, and each space can fit one of 26 letters, 10 numbers, or however many puntuation symbols. I'm not going to try and do the math, but I'd say that finding a specific arrangement would take you longer than the universe has existed…." She looked to Harry, the grin on her face renewing itself. "Still, this _is _pretty neat."

"It _is _neat," he began, taking out his key, "but there's _more."_

Hermione looked at him guardedly. "You mean more than just random combinations of letters?"

Harry nodded. "Yup."

He turned to the door to his right. It was covered with locks placed in completely random points. The door on the other side was identical in this sense, but the location of its lock as well as the number of locks was completely different. Harry inserted the key into a seemingly random spot on the door, opening it to reveal…

Another room just like the one they were in, except without the ladder.

Hermione followed him in cautiously, only for him to proceed to the next door, which also had its own unique arrangement of locks, and inserted it into_ another_ seemingly random location, leading to _another _room with _another _door.

This process continued for well over 5 minutes, with Harry opening door after door, sometimes without using his key. Eventually, Hermione spoke up.

"Harry…."

"Wait!" He shot, holding his hand up. "Just. One. More."

He fitted his key into another lock, revealing another room that was completely identical to the ones they had just been traversing, but with 1 exception:

The door at the other end only had 1 lock.

Harry unlocked the door and grasped the handle. "Ready?"

Hermione stomped her foot. "I've _been _ready, Harry!" It was playful, though, and he could tell she was excited.

He grinned, turning the handle and opening the door, keeping his eyes on Hermione to see her reaction.

It was a library, a _real _library, but not like one Hermione had ever seen.

The bookshelves reached as high as the ceiling in the Great Hall, and were stacked tight with books. Floating orbs of light illuminated the vast space, occasionally receiving a recharging shock from the ceiling. The remaining 3 walls were obscured by the shelves, but Harry knew that the room extended exhaustingly far in every direction.

Hermione began exploring, scanning the shelves as she went. Some books were brand new, and had titles she recognized, others looked indescribably old, almost falling apart; Some were plain and modest looking, while other were lined with gold and silver. There was the occasional shelf lined with scrolls, the look of which gave the impression of containing ancient knowledge.

Harry tapped his wand to the floor, summoning a soft chair from some unseen storage somewhere in the trunk. He pulled out his key, smiling as he heard Hermione's footsteps fade and grow as she ran along the aisles. Harry snapped the key in half, pausing as its numerous, powerful enchantments drained on a large chunk of his magical energy. The strain would have put lesser wizards into shock, and even for Harry, the experience was unpleasant. The two halves of the key regrew their missing parts using his magic, leaving him with two perfect copies of the original. He leaned back, waiting for Hermione to find her way back, chucking at her distant exclamations of disbelief.

She eventually made her way back to Harry, grinning like a maniac. "Harry, this is incredible! It's bigger than any warehouse I've ever seen, its… its…."

"Extremely illegal." He finished.

Hermione's smile evaporated, and she took a step back, obviously intimidated by the word 'illegal'. "What do you mean?"

Harry smiled solemnly. "I mean that what is in here could get me sent away for a long, _long _time, which is why I have such an elaborate ritual I have to use to get in here . This isn't like muggle society, the ministry can _ban _knowledge if it wants. Here, knowledge really _is _power, literally. There are texts here that describe spells that, while almost impossible to master, could make a single person into a walking social crisis for the ministry."

Hermione looked at him, suspicious now, and more than a little scared. "You mean... _Dark _magic…?"

Harry shook his head. "Anything made to cause significant damage to a person or object is considered dark to one degree or another. Dark doesn't mean evil, there are only a handful of spells that can only be used for evil purposes, like the cruciatus curse."

Hermione didn't move, but she looked more curious now than scared. "But still, it's not something we want just _anyone _getting their hands on…"

Harry was silent for a moment, more intimidating than should have been possibly for a child his age.

Finally, he spoke up. "Do you know what a dementor is?"

Hermione nodded her head. "They guard Azkaban, a wizard prison, right?"

Harry nodded. "Do you know what they do?"

She thought for a moment, probably recalling something she had read. "They drain the happiness form people, restricting their magic and bringing up their most unpleasant memories and feelings."

"They suck out _souls, _Hermione. They cannot die, because they are not alive: they are misery incarnate, the absolute closest thing to pure evil that exists in our world; not _dark, _evil. The ministry controls them without any check on their power. They could order them to do _anything, _even fight a war; there have been a few times where they were ordered to harass specific targets, entire _groups _of people…._" _He paused for a moment, hesitating to add the last part. "_Muggleborns, _Hermione. So I don't really think that a government that uses pure evil as a weapon has any right to restrict what someone can learn for no reason other than it makes them 'too powerful'"

Harry didn't like the horrified look on Hermione's face when she heard this, but he continued.

Harry's face was a rictus of cold rage, "It's not just powerful magic, either: it's _history. _They replace fact with fabrication, they white out entire _eras _and make it illegal to study them. Ideas, opinions, anything that could damage the government. Did you know that there was a goblin purge, or a house elf culling _mandated _by the ministry_? _Did you know that it was illegal to publish anything condemning these mandates, on penalty of a sentence to Azkaban, or worse, _disappearance_? I've tried to get my hands on whatever they've failed to burn, or in most cases, vanish, out of existence" He paused for breath, looking to his now shocked friend. "You know those harsh muggle regimes? The fascists and the Nazis, with their book burnings and secret police?"

Hermione nodded, realization of what he was about to say dawning on her.

"You don't have to _read _about those, anymore: you're living in one."

She thought for a moment, thinking before she asked: "Could someone have you killed for this?"

Harry nodded. "No assassin they could hire could kill me, but yes, people have been killed for less than this. In fact, there are a few texts in here that me and my godfather stole from the department of mysteries, either though forced entry or bribery. Just the fact that I've been in there and walked out would have the ministry after my head, no doubt."

"Then you're putting your life in danger!" she said, incredulously, "Why are you showing me this?!"

Harry stood up and took out the copy of the key he had just made, holding it out to her.

"I don't know _why, _I just know _who."_

Hermione stared at the key, unmoving but obviously captivated.

" You were raised by muggles, you _know _this is wrong, and you know you're not helpless. Some people may take it lying down, but _we _won't, will we?"

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Hermione stared at the key, an odd thrill coursing through her. She _did _know where this ended, and more importantly, she knew how history remembered it. She remembered sitting in school, learning about tyrannical governments. The people who were under their rule were, at best, considered victims. At worst, they were considered accomplices.

But that wasn't everyone.

There were people who marched on the streets for their freedom, who refused to burn their books, who hid fugitive Jews in their attics because they knew that turning them in was _wrong. _

Would_ she_ be in those marches? Would _she _steal the book, hide the Jew?

"Some people may take it lying down, but _we _won't, will we?"

Hermione paused for a moment, but only for a moment.

"No," she said, shaking her head, her voice hard with conviction. "no we won't."

She took the key, inspecting it before putting it in her pocket.

"Now," she began, "you mentioned something about forbidden magic?"

Harry, now her partner in crime, smiled wickedly.

"Yes, there's plenty of that. But first," his face grew serious, "a history lesson. Let's begin with _The Slaughter of 1562."_

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Harry exited the trunk wearily, victorious but emotionally drained. He had fixed his friendship with Hermione _and_ gotten his first recruit for his "cause" since Neville (whom he had enlightened under a blanket fort the two of them had built when it was raining outside).

But it was hard to smile after going over the _real _history of magical Britain.

Hermione hadn't believed some it at first, but as the facts piled up, some of them from public ministry records, they became irrefutable. The purges really did happen, muggle hunting really was once considered _sport_, and until just recently, Killing a half vampire or even people infected with lycanthropy arbitrarily _wasn't a crime_. And the things they used to do to the half-veela girls before killing them….

Hermione looked like a ghost by the end of the discussion. She was something of a feminist where she came from, and wasn't surprised to hear about acts of injustice happening as a daily occurrence; but the idea that _her_ government actively encouraged and _participated _in genocide sometime in the past 50 years, that that government was still in power and might very well turn on _her….._ It was something she hadn't ever had to even think about before.

Before she left, and with her permission, Harry brutally forced his legilimency into her mind. He went through fast, both to keep his attention on anything he found long enough to actually process it, and to maximize discomfort. Hermione described it as starting as an uncomfortable pressure at her temples, but it soon grew into a migraine of such intensity that she had to shield her eyes until Harry reduced the lighting in the room to a gentle glow. The experience would force her mind to quickly awaken its psychic abilities in order to defend herself, hastening her journey to becoming occlumens and thus guarding the precious knowledge she now kept. By the end, she was aware of even a light touch at the edge of her mind, but was also in an almost inconceivable amount of pain.

Harry had to help her out of his trunk, practically levitating her up the ladder and putting a steadying arm around her shoulder as he walked her to the girls' dorms. Harry found one of Hermione's roommates and had her escort her to bed. Hopefully, she wouldn't have any problem sleeping after the day she had had.

It wasn't even dinner, but that was to be expected. Time ran a bit differently in his trunk, and to them, it probably should have been around midnight. Harry was an insomniac, and would have plenty of time to catch dinner before sleep really began calling for him.

On his way to the Great Hall, he ran into Neville, who raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Where'd you go after lunch, I haven't seen you two all day. Where's Hermione, anyway?"

Harry rubbed his eyes, suddenly more tired than he should have been. "We went the library."

Neville frowned. "I was in there not long ago, I didn't…"

"_The _library, Nevs."

Neville nodded understandingly, than hesitated a moment before looking to Harry in surprise.

"So, she knows the whole mess?"

Harry nodded.

"And she wants to help?"

Harry nodded again, answering this time "And I cracked her head open, so at least now she'll feel any mental intrusions. She's sharp, should pick up the craft by christmas if not sooner."

Neville shook his head. "We have class tomorrow, Harry, and you know she's going to have a murderous headache."

Harry nodded. "Took, what, 3 days for the pain to stop?"

"4 days, and it took me months to stop hearing everyone shouting into my head. Did you tell her about _that?" _

Harry shook his head. "She's older now than you were back then, so her mind is less open. She'll hear some whispers for a week or two, and after that she'll only hear it when she tries."

"Did you give her the choice, or did you 'accidentally' crack her like an egg, like you did with me?"

Harry sighed.

"Neville, it _was_ an accident, I was_ nine_!"

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After charms class, Flitwick called for Harry to stay behind. He told Neville and Hermione to go on without him, and then found a chair to sit in as to better face the small charms teacher without being offensive or awkward.

The small man looked off to a window pensively before wandering over to a bookshelf. He looked up pointed up to a book near the top.

"I can't seem to reach this book, would you mind helping me get it down?"

Harry hesitated. While the bookshelf was tall, comically tall in comparison to the man who owned it, Flitwick was still a wizard, and a powerful one at that. He could have shrunk the shelf to his height, if he wanted to. Still, Harry obeyed and withdrew his wand.

"Oh, Harry, I don't think you _need _that, do you?"

Harry froze, realizing what the point of all this was. Still, if Flitwick already knew….

Harry pocketed his wand and looked to the book his professor had indicated. Silently, the book was lifted from its place and, quickly and fluidly, placed in Flitwick's waiting hands.

Flitwick gazed at the book for a moment, chuckling to himself but looking astounded despite himself.

Harry was curious. "How did you guess?"

He gave Harry a humorous grin. "Come now, Harry, you didn't even try to hide it. While everyone else was struggling to cast the hover charm, you and your friends successfully cast it on the first try, and among them, you were obviously the most proficient. I've also heard professor McGonagall talk about you, she swears you're by far the most gifted transfiguration student she's ever had. Wandless magic is incredibly difficult, so, if I had to pick out whoever caught my fall that day, the clear choice is whoever shows the greatest proficiency with magic."

_This guy isn't the Ravenclaw head of house for nothing…._

"Harry, how long have you been able to do this?" he asked.

Harry didn't see how it could hurt to tell him. Dumbledore already knew, and this small, kind, warm little man reminded him of all the things he liked about his headmaster. Harry found that he was actually glad that he had an excuse to tell him the truth. "Since I was seven, when I came to live with my godfather."

Flitwick furrowed his eyebrows in surprise, but nodded. "Did it manifest itself in any way prior to this?"

Harry willed his hair to shift through a spectrum of different colors before settling back to its natural black, catching the professor off guard.

"That started when I was seven, too. Before I lived with Sirius, I had no indication that I was magical except for a few discreet instances, which I only noticed in hindsight."

Flitwick frowned. "Is there any reason you can think of to explain your magical powers awakening at such a specific point?"

Harry decided that the best way to deal with this was to come out and say it bluntly.

"I was too sad."

Flitwick seemed taken aback by this, but understanding was beginning to fill his features.

"And the instances you mentioned before, of your power manifesting, what were they, specifically?"

Harry hesitated, but decided that telling the truth would only place the charms professor could only make him feel sympathetic.

"I survived injuries that should have killed me."

Flitwick looked distant for a moment before putting on a warm smile.

"And we're all glad you did, Harry." He said quietly. He reached out and handed Harry the book he had retrieved from the shelf. "Here, I want you to have this."

Harry took the book and glanced at the cover, which had no title. Frowning, he opened the book and scanned the pages, and found that it was completely hand written.

He read a few lines and paused. These were custom charms, and damned powerful ones at that. Harry pointed a finger to an empty point in space. "_Spatium Mora."_

The space he was pointing to shimmered. Harry levitated another book from the shelf and threw it at the point at suicidal speeds, but when it reached its destination, it slowed down to a crawl, as if they were seeing it through a slow motion camera. As it passed through the shimmering space, it resumed its trajectory at its previous speed and hit the wall with a dull thump.

"Merlin's beard!" shouted Flitwick, "How did you cast that without a wand?!"

Harry shrugged. "I don't need a wand to cast charms or transfigure things, it's just a gift."

Flitwick nodded. "An enormous gift, Harry…. If you had used your wand, I suspect that the book would have remained frozen until the end of term…."

Harry shook his head, pulling out his wand and snapping it in half.

Flitwick's eyes nearly popped out of his skull, "Harry!"

Harry shook his head. "It's not a big deal, watch." He tapped his wand with his index finger, and the two halves rejoined. He picked it up and levitated Flitwick's book in the air. Normally, a damaged wand core would not only ruin the wand, but, in most cases, cause it to violently explode if someone tried to use it. Harry's wand, however, held firm.

Flitwick was incredulous. "H-how…?"

Harry canceled the levitation, catching the_ incredibly _valuable book as it fell. He held out his wand to the professor. "No core. It _used _to have one, but every time I try and use a wand with dragon heartstring, phoenix feather, or any other kind of magical conduit, the core burns out and I'm left with a hollow shell, if that. In fact, if the wand isn't made of elder, even _that _burns out."

Harry held out his wand. It was a 12' elder wood wand that once held dragon heartstring. When Harry first tested it, he burned it hollow, but it was the only one that functioned anything like a proper wand. Olliviander nearly cried when it appeared as if it had bonded to Harry; Olliviander had said it was the most powerful wand he had ever crafted, made the two most potent, and most temperamental, materials that existed in wandlore. He had been waiting for years for someone to come along and master it. Harry didn't have the heart to tell him that a branch picked from an elder tree probably would have had the same effect.

Flitwick stared at Harry, nodding slowly but clearly in a state of disbelief. "So, does a wand not make _any _difference to you?"

Harry shook his head. "It does, but the difference in power is pretty small. The real benefit is the speed and precision. When I just use my hands or… my eyes, I guess…. There's a delay that isn't there when I use a wand, and some spells aren't as focused."

"And the incantation?"

Harry nodded. "I need it the way everyone else needs it. My charms are _a lot _weaker without it."

"Ah" nodded Flitwick thoughtfully, "Forgive me, Harry, but does Dumbledore…. Does _anyone _know about this?"

"Dumbledore knows," he replied, "Sirius and Neville know, and Hermione knows I'm not normal but hasn't asked any question about it."

"Hmm," Mused Flitwick, "I suppose that's just fine. You have responsible people who know, but not too many."

Harry cocked his head. "Too many?"

Flitwick nodded. "There are already people out there speculating how you could have vanquished the dark lord as an infant. Many say that, even as an infant, your power dwarfed his to such a degree that his killing curse just managed to scratch your forehead, and that your retaliation _blew the roof _from your home and scattered his body like confetti." He gave Harry a serious look. "If you were to give validation to these claims, which frankly, I'm resisting the urge to believe, myself, you would invite even _more_ speculation. There are some that would think you the next dark lord, some of them being death eaters looking for a new master. Some may even try and worship you, Harry. That's not even addressing what the ministry would try and do. You represent a serious threat to the Ministry's authority, given your undeniable magical power and potential public influence. They may try and study you, but in the end, they will likely try to kill you if they even think that you aren't 100% loyal to them."

Harry hadn't even thought about that, but he knew Flitwick was right. And if people knew about his _other…_

Even Sirius and Dumbledore were afraid of _that…._

He remembered the first time he had let it out in front of Sirius and Dumbledore

"_Harry, step back! Get away from it!"_

"_S-Sirius, what's wrong? I'm sorry, What did I…?"_

"_Sirius, I don't think your wand will do any good here….."_

"_You know what this thing is?!"_

"_No, but I recognize it. It's the creature that gave me this hand…."_

"_S-Sirius, I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"_

"_No, Harry, you didn't do anything wrong, it's just…."_

"_Harry, you're fine, but... do you know what this creature is, where it came from?"_

_The figure before Harry turned to face him, it's form hidden behind a dark cloak, it's wings casting an ominous shadow across the room._

_Harry answered honestly._

"_It's just me…."_

Harry shook off the memory.

Flitwick raised an eyebrow. "Is there something else you're hiding?"

_Damn, he's sharp._

"Yes" he answered honestly, thought volunteering no further information.

Flitwick paused. "Do Sirius and Dumbledore know?"

Harry nodded.

"Then I suppose it's better if I don't. Perhaps I know too much as it is…."

"I trust you, professor." He thought for a moment. "Um, professor? If McGonagall catches on, which she might, given how quick she is, should I….?"

Flitwick shrugged. "It really is up to you. But you're right, she might catch on if you're not careful, though if you can trust me you can certainly trust her. She's the deputy headmistress and every bit a witch as I am a wizard, and would never betray your trust. I must urge you to keep this, keep _everything _a secret until a more opportune time. The ministry…."

"Wouldn't stand a chance against me." Finished Harry.

Flitwick paused staring at Harry for a long moment before nodding hesitantly.

"No, I don't think they would…. But I suppose it's best _not _to start a revolution and throw off the government…."

_He doesn't know the half of it._

"There are some that would disagree with you, particularly _goblins." _

Professor Flitwick blinked in shock.

"Do you, perhaps, disagree with the ministry's stance on non-human relations?"

Harry nodded solemnly. "It's an atrocity, and history will look back on it in _shame. _If I could do it without killing anyone, or at least, without killing anyone who isn't hopelessly corrupt, I would tear the ministry down _today; _if not for its appalling treatment of anything not of the human race, then for its barbaric treatment of muggles and muggleborns."

"I take it that you're adamantly against the "blood purity" movement, then…" he chuckled, but hearing such things from a child clearly disturbed him.

Harry locked eyes with the small professor, wanting every word to hit home. "Professor, Hermione Granger, the only person other than me or Neville who is able to perform any real magic in our year, is muggleborn. There are people who say she is less of a witch because of this; to those people, I would say that they are stupid. There are _others _who would want to limit her rights, who would want to imprison her, even _kill her_. To _them, _I only have one thing to say:"

He leaned forward, pronouncing each word carefully, "_Avada Kedavra."_

Flitwick went pale. "Harry, you don't mean that…."

"On the contrary, professor, the moment they even _suggest_ killing muggleborns, or just muggles in general, their lives are bought and paid for in my eyes. You know how people used to go muggle hunting? Well, I would have to admit that I rather like the idea of _blood purist _hunting. Not purebloods, not even the stupid ones who think they're just superior, I mean the ones who think that it's perfectly alright to kill someone because they don't have the right last name."

Flitwick was panicking now. "Harry, I understand how you feel, I really do, but you _can't _say that. What you're talking about doing… Harry, _it's wrong!"_

Harry voice grew angry. "_You _think that's because you're a good person, you're _so _good that talking about hurting people who hate you, who want you dead because you're part goblin, deeply disturbs you and you don't even want to _try _and rationalize it. But think about it, could you imagine wanting to kill Hermione? Can you imagine the kind of person who would? She's _eleven years old, _professor, a little girl who hasn't done anything wrong! Who doesn't want to do anything but help kids with their homework!"

Magic was gathering in the air like ozone before a lightning strike.

Harry took a calming breath. "It can't go on, professor. Those people are _evil, _and they own the minister _and_ the rest of the government. If they don't get with it, if they don't change, they'll have to die; so will the ministry, at least as we know it now."

Flitwick stared. "And _you _will be the one to kill them, Harry?"

Harry shook his head. "No. Perhaps some of them, but it will happen with or without me."

Flitwick looked hesitant. "How so?"

"Simple: They'll be on the losing side of the war."

Flitwick shook his head. "Harry, _what _war?"

"Voldemort's war, professor. It's not over, it's just on pause. It will pick back up, though; Maybe a hundred years from now, and maybe under a different name, but it _will _happen. We'll have to fight it again, over and over, because you can't kill stupidity and bigotry."

Flitwick stood motionless. "Well, Harry, I don't know how to respond to all this…."

Harry nodded. "If you don't want to give me this book, I understand. If _I _thought I was giving a tool of destruction to someone planning on doing something I found ethically wrong…."

"No, Harry, keep it. I imagine that charms class will be quite boring for you for the next…. Well, perhaps for the next seven years, and you will inevitably desire to find some _extracurricular_ studies. I'd rather you study _this _than something you found in the restricted section of the library…"

_Professor, I think I have something to tell you…_

Harry smiled. "No worries, I have no intention of ever setting foot in that section." And it was true, he didn't _need _to.

Flitwick nodded, the least bit assured. "All the same, I think something a little more stimulating than _first year charms _would do you good."

Harry nodded graciously. "Thank you professor, I appreciate it. I think I should get to class though…"

Flitwick nodded, "Oh yes, I think I've kept you here longer than intended... you can tell your next teacher that I held you back late, and to talk to me if they have a problem excusing the tardy."

Harry nodded, getting up to leave. As he was walking out the door, he hear the professor add one thing more.

"And Harry, I beg you, if you're thinking about doing some of those things you said earlier…"

Harry paused at the doorway.

"Seven years professor, the ministry has seven years. When I walk out of here at the end of seventh year, I'm going to get on my broom, fly to Azkaban, relocate everyone inside to someplace _humane, _and destroy it. There won't be _rubble _left where it once stood."

He turned to face Flitwick. "Sir, before I die, goblins will carry wands, every abused house elf will be relocated to a home that will be grateful to have them, and dementors will be sealed somewhere they can't do harm to _anyone, _and that's if I don't find a way to destroy them by then. Muggles and muggleborns will be considered every bit a first class citizen as ever witch, wizard, werewolf, centaur, and goblin, and the people who think they shouldn't be will hide their opinions out of fear, not because of me, but because people would be _disgusted _with them if they found out."

The professor shook his head. "That's a very admirable dream, Harry, but what are you willing to do to accomplish it?"

Harry didn't hesitate. "Die."

Flitwick blinked, finally stunned into silence. Harry turned and walked out the door.

"Seven years, Flitwick!" he shouted back, "Seven years!"

Behind him, Flitwick fell onto his chair, dazed.

_I actually believe it, _he thought, _I think he's really going to do it, and I think I…._

He sat in his chair for a long while before he pulled out a book, blank from cover to cover, took out his ink and quill.

_How, _he asked himself, would _one go about destroying a dementor?_

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Harry loved flying.

He loved the speed, he loved the weightlessness of a drop, he loved the _freedom. _

It really was too bad that he hated quidditch, he would have been fantastic…

And he _was_ fantastic the few times he had played; perhaps not as a beater, but he was a _machine _as a chaser and a brilliant keeper, and when he was seeker, the game barely started before he caught the snitch and ended it. But he was good at quidditch because he was good, bloody excellent, at flying. He could outrace and outmaneuver anything in the air, and he didn't need skill with a ball if he could just fly circled around everyone and put the quaffle into the hoop with an underhand toss. Still, he just couldn't enjoy himself when he played. Sure, he enjoyed the time he schooled Malfoy and tricked him into a diving into the ground at top speed, breaking his arm, but he couldn't wait for the game to end so he could just _enjoy _his time on a broom.

But this wasn't quidditch practice, it was _flying _practice.

Madame Hooch led them to the practice grounds, and started off on a list of flying and safety tips. Harry silently begged for Malfoy to say he didn't need them, or to groan or otherwise boast like the prat he was, but knew that it was unlikely. Draco knew that, as long as Harry was around, his tall tales about his skills on a broom wouldn't fly.

_Heh, fly. I made a pun._

Finally, Madame Hooch began the practical portion of the lesson.

"Now everyone, hold your right hand over your brooms and say 'up'!"

A host of Gryffindor and Slytherin voices complied.

Harry put both hands over his broom before giving the command. The broom shot up from the ground like a bullet, lifting Harry off the ground. The broom stopped suddenly in midair, and Harry used his momentum to place himself on top of his broom. He wasted no time from there taking off at full speed.

"Well," said Madame Hooch, not the least bit angry, "glad to know we have some experience on the field today."

Harry pushed the old broom for all it was worth, rocketing upward so fast that it began falling apart. Bristles began falling off, and the acceleration was getting shaky by the time he let off on his speed.

_This broom's gonna lean to one side after this, I just know it. _

He was well over 70 feet in the air when he cut off his acceleration completely. He removed the broom from between his legs and held it out to his side with one hand, allowing his momentum to carry him up for a moment before he froze momentarily in midair and began his free-fall down to earth. He could hear Madame Hooch yelling now, and some brooms had stopped midflight to look at Harry as he fell.

He began twisting in the air, picking up speed as he approached the ground. He didn't know if this trick would work on such a ruddy broom, and failure might mean imminent death, but his occasionally panicky mind settled into complete relaxation when he was on a broom, and he feared _nothing. _

His broom added power to his spin, and eventually pulled him into a tight circle with his right hand clasping the broom and his left hand remaining stationary over a single point above the ground. Harry felt the broom out, testing its capabilities and mapping out when he would have to pull out. Of course, if he failed, he would crash from a 70+ foot fall, and whatever he did wouldn't soften it in the lightest. If he succeeded, he would pull of what was, on paper, an impossible feat and pull out of a dive too high for the shody comet broom he was riding.

So he might as well do it right, and pull off at the last second.

Harry shifted his twisting motion, or rather, he shifted _himself _so that the broom was between his legs and his body was rotating around his head. He pulled his broom and shifted his body weight to transform his downward momentum _forwards, _and at the last second…

It worked.

The bristles of his broom brushed the grass, which incidentally helped him kill his momentum just in time to come to a stop right in front of Madame Hooch, Neville, and a host of stunned faces.

"Mr. Potter….!" Stumbled Madame Hooch.

Harry bowed. "By the way, I hate quidditch."

Neville, a quidditch enthusiast, held a hand over his face and shook his head.

"Go. To. Hell, Harry."

Harry soaked in the praise of a few students before realizing that Hermione hadn't said anything since he landed.

_Where _was _Hermione?_

Madame Hooch began yelling at something up in the air. When Harry saw what it was, his eyes darkened.

Hermione was up in the air, unmoving holding her broom for dear life, while a circle of Slytherins, Draco and his goons among them, flew around her and dashed up behind her, brushing up on her as they went, trying to scare her. Clearly, it was working.

Suddenly, Harry's mild irritation for Draco, which he usually turned into a game, shifted into something much worse. Madame Hooch's calls weren't stopping them, and they were hurting his friend. Harry found himself wanting to hurt Draco, _bad. _

_What would Sirius want you to do? _he asked himself?

_He wouldn't want me to hurt him._

_What would Sirius do if Draco was doing this to _you?

Harry didn't have to even think about it.

"Confundus" he coughed, disguising it well enough to hide it from everyone but Neville, who was standing next to him.

"Harry, please don't…"

Harry shook his head. "Hermione is innocent, Draco made his choice."

Neville groaned. "Just… please just…."

Harry scowled. "He'll live. In fact, I might even teach him some…. Humility."

Draco's broom began flying strangely, flying at odd angles and attempting to buck him off. Still, he held on, and Harry was getting impatient. So, with a cock of his neck, he forced Draco off his broom, sending him falling. At the last third of the drop, Harry's eyes focused on Draco's falling body, adding a little more force to his fall.

He hit the ground, bounced up, and fell back down. Immediately, cries of agony rang across the grounds.

Harry walked up behind Madame Hooch, who was gently rolling Draco over, revealing his ruined left arm.

"Ouch," he laughed, "might want to work on your broom skills before harassing other students, eh, Draco?"

Draco responded with a scream of pain, but Harry was sure he had heard him, and that was what counted. He looked up and spotted Hermione, slowly descending. He took out his wand, making sure Hermione knew he had it ready.

"I got you, your fine"

When she finally got down, she let her broom fall from her shaking hands. Harry didn't see it before, but she was sobbing.

Suddenly, Harry felt like shit, and he didn't know why.

He hesitantly stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, patting her back comfortingly. Harry would be surprised if she ever rode a broom again. He contemplated breaking his promise to Neville and trying to find a way to stop Draco's heart without anyone noticing.

_My _anger issues_ have anger issues..._

He turned to see Madame Hooch take out her wand and levitate Draco's writhing form up to carry him to the hospital wing.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'quidditch.' Come on, dear…"

Harry looped his arm around Hermione's shoulders, which were still shaking. He walked over to Neville, looped around his free arm over _his _shoulders, and began walking back to the castle.

Neville raised an eyebrow. "Where are we going? Madame Hooch said…."

"Not to touch our brooms, and we're not. I'm hungry, we're getting food."

Neville hesitated. "Harry, lunch doesn't start for over two hours…"

Harry shrugged. "I was more in the mood for sweets, who's up for Honey dukes?"

Hermione sniffed back her tears. "Harry, that's in Hogsmead, we won't be able to go down there for another two years, end even then..."

"I know a secret passage that will lead us straight there, no one will know. My father and godfather used it all the time when they went here, and the people down in Hogsmead don't bat an eye."

So Harry pulled his friends along to Hogsmead. Broom practice wasn't over, but Hermione was in no state to ride a broom, and no one was going to get her on one before she was ready.

And God help anyone who tried.

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The three of them spent most of their day at Hogsmead. Hermione had objected to skipping transfiguration, but when Harry explained that their grades literally _did not matter _until their OWL years, when it was decided whether or not you could enter the NEWT equivalent of each class, Hermione ceased her objections and simply made Harry promise that they would practice later.

When Harry said he would help her study, but that _he_ could transfigure a dog into a dragon and make it bark fire already, she didn't ask any questions and instead continued sipping on her butter beer.

The trip cheered her up considerably. While Harry thought that Zonko's joke shop would have been the thing to do it, the place stirred little interest in her. They spent most of their time in Dogweed and Deathcap, where Neville gave Hermione a crash course on Herbology, and Honeydukes, because even Hermione was a girl and couldn't resist _magical _chocolate. Harry grabbed a handful of whatever she seemed mildly interested in, and wouldn't hear of her attempts she made to try and pay for it.

After picking up a few pieces from the local Tomes and Scrolls to add to Harry's library, the three of them snuck back into Hogwarts with their concealed bag full of goods; were it not for Harry working an undetectable extension charm on it, it would have been impossible to carry. Between the sugar high, the excitement of the day, and the thrill of sneaking back into the castle, Hermione was stifling giggles on their way to dinner.

Dinner was…. Interesting.

Halfway through, they heard some commotion from the Slytherin table and turned just in time to see Draco, arm in a cast, marching over to where they were seated.

Draco was trailed by his goons, but his eyes were red from a day of crying.

Harry scoffed. He _liked _where this was going.

Draco was seething by the time he got to the Gryffindor table.

"Duel, Potter, _tonight!"_

Scratch that, Harry _loved _where this was going.

He lifted one eyebrow humorously. "Um…. Why?"

Draco's pale face grew red, and spittle came out with his every word. "I _know _it was you that threw me off my broom, Potter, I _felt _you do it!"

Harry shook his head. "I didn't have my wand out, you prat, no one did. You fell of your broom because you can't fly worth a damn. Why do you even think it was _me?"_

Harry was actually curious.

Draco sneered. "Everyone knows it was you! Who else would have jumped to defend Hermione, she's _your _whore!"

The table behind them cracked with Harry's rage induced magical discharge. Neville, however, simply stood up calmly…

And decked Draco in the face.

Crabbe and Goyle caught him as he fell. Harry was about to curse them both blind before they started laying into Neville when McGonagall showed up.

"Mr. Longbottom! What is the meaning of this?"

Harry turned to her. He wasn't going to let Neville take the fall for doing the right thing_, _even if the professors either couldn't or wouldn't admit that it _was _the right thing. Harry's mind went full speed, his anger doing nothing but sharpening his intent. He hadn't even finished thinking when words started leaving his mouth.

"Draco challenged me to a wizarding duel, said his father taught him the killing curse. When I refused, he called Hermione a whore and said he would do to me what his aunt did to Neville's parents." He paused, giving McGonagall a pointed stare "I assume you know what he meant, right?"

McGonagall almost fell back with indignation. Harry felt bad for taking advantage of McGonagall's close ties with Neville's parents, but Draco needed a lesson that falling off a broom didn't teach him, and Harry was going to keep at it until he learned.

There was a moment of silence when no one spoke.

McGonagal broke it.

"20 p-points from Gryffindor for a hot headed outburst…." She turned to Draco, and Harry thought she was going to start screeching like a veela. Instead, she kept her voice calm and even. "30 points from Slytherin for challenging another student to a duel, 70 for threatening another student with the killing curse, 50 for heinous insults to a bystander, and one… one. Hundred. Points. For _daring…." _She put her hand over her mouth. "And one month detention with Filch. _Now. Sit. Back. Down_, Mr. Malfoy!"

Draco's eyes were wide with shock. He just dumbly shook his head, mouth open, as McGonagall marched back to the head table. He looked to Harry, his features falling first into disbelief, then to hatred so intense that Harry wondered if he might pop a vein in his eye.

Harry chuckled. "I would have killed you in a duel, Draco, be glad she stopped you. Oh…" He took out a chocolate frog from his pocket. "We went to honey dukes after broom riding class, forgot to buy you anything. Hope you get well soon." He turned around, breathing _prat _under his breath.

Crabbe scoffed. "That's rubbish, you're a first year, and…"

Harry cut him off. "Secret passage to Hogsmead, under the staircase outside by the west wall."

Harry sat back down as he returned to his dinner. When Crabbe and Goyle escorted Draco away, Neville shot him a look.

"Why'd you tell them about the secret passage?"

Harry smiled impishly. "The passage doesn't appear unless you check more than once. If they tell a professor and the professor checks, they'll find nothing and everyone will think they're lying. Then, everyone will assume they're _always _lying." Harry looked at his friends faces. "But that's if they don't check first and see that it's not there. If they don't check before running their mouths, then being called liars would be a compliment."

Hermione looked at him shrewdly. Harry had told her about Draco's family, how his aunt had tortured Neville's parents out of their minds and his father had killed a good friend of his godfather's. That, along with everything he had done personally, it seemed like she didn't have any moral objections to what Harry had done, probably because it was to defend Neville. But still...

"How did you _not _place into Slytherin, Harry?"

Harry smiled. "I forced my mind into the sorting hat and took control of its mouth like a puppet."

There was silence among them as his friends stared wide eyed at him.

"What? Getting placed into Slytherin would have _killed _my godfather."

Neville shook his head. "Why do I totally believe you?"

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Author's notes.

Ok, big update. Finals week, so I've been writing here and there, sort of piling material up. I actually kind of like this, might keep doing these chunked updates. Just wish I had someone to edit for me...

Ok, so Harry's teeth are coming out in this chapter. I haven't done too much characterization for him before this, but it's clear that this isn't Rowling's Harry. He's much more powerful and has been put through alot more. He's not evil, in fact he can be incredibly kind, but killing someone he believes deserves to die wouldn't lose him any sleep. I'm trying to consolidate the effects of his abuse with the effect Sirius had on him; he's a fun loving 11 year old with a skewed moral code who, for the first time, is experiencing the freedom to do and say as he pleases.

We've caught a glimpse at Harry's _other, _how exciting. We'll be seeing much more of him.

I'll try and get the christmas edition out in time for christmas. In case I don't, I hope you all have a wonderful end to your holiday season

Keep the updates coming, and feel free to correct me on grammar or whatever. I'll accept suggestions as to where this story should go, as well, so don't feel free to voice your opinions to to speculate! :)


	5. Chapter 5: The Path to Ruin

Chapter 5: The Path to Ruin

He was the darkness.

He was the night.

He was the predator, and these _humans_ were his prey.

From under his hood, his bright, red, unblinking eyes surveyed the Great Hall, scanning over the faces of the children gathered there. He could see every hair, hear every heartbeat. His fingers, tipped with obsidian black claws, tapped the table in front of him, eager to rip into human flesh.

It was dinner time in the Great Hall, and Harry Potter was hungry.

"Dude, could you tone down the act? Seriously, it's getting creepy."

Harry looked to Neville, his friend from another life.

"Harry…" he whispered, "Was that… Was that my name?"

Tears pooled in his eyes. He felt nostalgic for the days when he was not a monster, when living each day didn't mean _killing _each day_. _

Neville shook his head, it was useless to try and make Harry take anything seriously on tonight of all nights:_  
_

Halloween.

Harry loved Halloween. The Dursleys had never celebrated the holiday, it was silly, and worse, just a little bit _magic,_ but Harry would always sneak peeks out the window of the kids walking around with their bags of candy and _awesome costumes. _Since escaping and discovering his powers as a metamorphmagus, he vowed that, every year, _he _would have the most awesome costume. And every year, he did.

Because _his _masks didn't come off.

"Do you know where Hermione is? I haven't seen her for a while, and she said she seemed like she was excited about dressing up…."

Harry had been thinking the same thing. However, since he couldn't really do anything about it, he refused to drop out of character.

"Little 'mione should count herself lucky, for she had avoided sharing the fate of _these _doomed_ souls." _Harry gestured to rest of the great hall, "By morning, she may be the _only one left in this castle alive!"_

Harry gave his best maniacal laugh, which was enhanced by his altered vocal chords.

Neville just sat silent. Harry was lost, and he wouldn't be getting him back till the next morning. Perhaps he would find some sane conversation in Hermione…

"Troll!"

Neville turned around, not used to Professor quirrel's voice reaching that level of mania.

"Troll! Troll in the dungeons!"

The Hall was silent.

"Just thought you should know….."

The Hall exploded in activity. Under the orders of the professors, prefects began rounding up the students to evacuate to the dorms.

Neville and Harry, however, were already gone.

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Hermione wiped the tears from her eyes.

She hated crying, it made her face swell, her eyes turn red, and overall, it just made her look dreadful. She really should have found a better place to do this than the girls' bathroom; God forbid if anyone walked in on her like this.

She_ really_ hated contacts.

"Okay," she sighed, "one more time."

She had gotten them during an illicit trip to Hogsmead, along with a vile looking potion that supposedly gave her the appearance a zombie for a few hours. The contacts added to the illusion; when she asked why they needed something as muggle as contacts when they had a potion that could do the job better, Harry had told her that messing too much with something as delicate as the eyes with a potion bought from a joke shop was a less than brilliant idea. Hermione was inclined to agree.

She had never seen Harry so excited about something before, except for maybe flying. He got a glint in his eyes at the mention of Halloween, and, for a moment, he had actually looked his age. She had learned that he was actually raised in a muggle home when he was younger, which was why he was familiar with the muggle holiday. His face at the mention of his relatives, though, gave her the impression that she shouldn't pursue the subject, so she let it drop.

With a few more attempts, she was able to get the last contact into her eye. She didn't worry too much about the redness, since the potion would make her skin appear bloodless.

And then, it would make her skin appear to _rot._

If she were more superficial, perhaps more girly, she may have had a problem with that.

But it was just _too cool!_

She looked in the _mirror._ The contacts looked convincing, not that she knew what zombie eyes looked like. The whites of her eyes were now grey, almost black, and her pupils were misshapen, like punctured egg yolks. Next was the potion. She pulled the small vial out of her pocket, enough for a good 4 1/2 hours.

_I wonder what the essence of zombie _tastes _like…_

She was about to take her first sip of the green, soupy liquid when a loud thumping outside of the bathroom gave her pause.

What came through the doors, or rather, busted through them, made her drop the vial.

And then it made her scream.

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Harry and Neville fast walked through the castle corridors. They would have run, but they only knew the general direction of the troll, and they couldn't afford any wrong turns.

They didn't know where Hermione was, and finding her with legilimency in a school full of panicking children and teachers could range from difficult to downright impossible. So, since they couldn't find Hermione, who likely had no idea that one of the most effective killing machines found in nature was lumbering through the school, there was only one option that was sure to succeed: Find the troll.

And then kill it.

Simple.

It was easy finding the troll's mind, which stood out for being much slower and simpler than that of a human's. However, the troll was too stupid to know where it was, or to recognize landmarks that would give away its location, so Harry was left playing a game of hotter-colder with his legilimency, which was easier said than done, especially in the impossibly convoluted halls of Hogwarts.

They found that it got a lot easier to find it once they could hear the massive creature's footsteps.

And Hermione's screams.

The two of them ran down the corridors, almost sliding as they came to a stop in front of the girl's bathroom, where the troll was picking up a screeching Hermione by the arm and inspecting her like an interesting bug.

Harry was pretty sure that human arms weren't supposed to bend that way…

Neville didn't wait an instant once the troll was in his sights.

"_Stupefy!"_

The stunner hit the creature straight in the temple. It dropped Hermione, more out of shock than the effects of the spell. Even on the ground, Hermione screamed, cradling her arm in a fetal position on the ground.

Harry saw that her arm was bleeding.

He imagined that it was likely a compound fracture, that in all likelihood, she was staring a bone poking out from her skin.

She was probably scared…

Something in Harry snapped.

She was just a kid.

She didn't do anything.

Suddenly, he hated the troll. It was ugly, hairy, stupid…

It was _fat._

_Harry clutched his stomach, choking on his own vomit. Vernon towered over him, grinning madly_.

_'Go ahead and die, boy, it's the only thing anyone in your family has ever been able to do _right! _No one cares! You don't even _exist!'

_The man clawed desperately at his thinning hair._

_'Why? Why did they you _here?!'

Harry's face twisted into a rictus of rage. That was good, what he was about to do needed at least a little hate.

Harry raised his hand, not his wand, motioning in the way that his magic told him was the most natural. He didn't know if it gave his magic any extra kick, but it felt _right. _

A soft green glow manifested in his hand before flaring brightlyand launching itself at the troll, a green flash followed by a comet-like tail of twisting energy. The curse hit the troll in its center of mass.

One moment the troll was alive, the next it was dead. There were no marks, no abrasions, nothing to hint at a cause of death.

Such was the killing curse.

It collapsed, falling away from Hermione. She was still huddled against the wall, giving no sign that she was even aware that she was no longer in danger.

Harry took a few steps towards her. He didn't know if she knew what was happening, and didn't want to frighten her. Indeed, there _was _a bone sticking out from her arm, and an injury like that didn't mix well with panicked movements.

He had only taken a few steps before he saw a flash out of the corner of his vision. He threw himself to the ground just as a second flash went off and a blazing hex flew over his head, extinguishing itself against a stone wall. He twisted around, holding his hand up as a threat in a way only _he _could.

"Don't even_ think_ about it, Potter." Said a familiar, loathing voice. "Or _whoever_ you are."

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Severus wasn't sure how to feel.

Outraged that a student had used an unforgivable curse _in the castle? _

Ecstatic that he had caught Harry Potter in the act?

Shocked that he did it without a wand?

Afraid, because it was likely that he was not talking to Harry Potter at all, but a dark wizard posing as him? Perhaps even a remnant of the dark lord residing in his body?

He wasn't sure of a lot of things. Particularly, he wasn't sure whether he had the boy (or whatever he was) right where he wanted him, or if he was in a stalemate. He had no wand, but did he need one? He had cast the killing curse, one powerful enough to take down a _troll, _with nothing but a _hand motion_. Aside from a difference in mobility, they might as well be on equal terms right now, wand or no wand.

So, who would blink first?

Severus stared down at the boy/impostor before him, smiling as if he were in complete control.

"That was an interesting trick, boy. A killing curse, wandlessly. I wasn't aware Flitwick and Quirrel were teaching such advanced curses to first years."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows and then smiled at Flitwick's name.

The boy snapped his fingers, and Snape instinctively hurled a wordless stunner. The hex flew towards Harry…

And seemed to stop in midair.

"_Avada Kedavra!" _

The trademark green glare of the killing curse curse flew towards Severus before stopping in midair around the same area as his stunner. Severus didn't know what was happening, but one never took chances with the killing curse. No shield, no delay; the moment the words left Harry's mouth, Severus was going for a dive to avoid the curse. Harry was ready, however, and there was a bright red stunning hex already heading right where Snape was about to land.

There were 3 people in that castle, just 3, who could pull out a victory from this situation. One was Dumbledore, one of the most powerful wizards to ever live, even in his old age; The second was Flitwick, a dueling champion that Voldemort himself would've rather not have faced alone. Most would think that McGonagall could have boasted equal, if not greater dueling prowess than the charms professor, being the deputy headmistress and the professor of a difficult, dangerous branch of magic. But no, the old woman, while being a powerful witch in her own right, was neither quick on her feat nor extraordinarily swift with her wand. She liked to take her spell weaving at a leisurely pace.

No, there were only three people in that castle who stood a chance against the inhuman abomination of magical power that was Harry James Potter, and McGonagall was not one of them.

The third was Snape.

In mid role, his wand flicked out and redirected the hex against a wall. He came up into a kneeling position and hurled a vicious curse at Harry.

Perhaps it would have killed Harry, or perhaps his odd affiliation with magic would have saved him. They didn't have a chance to find out.

A squawk rang from the ruined entrance to the bathroom. A streak of red and gold shot in between Snape and Harry, intercepting Snape's curse. The blurred figure caught fire, smashing against the wall as a pile of ash and scattering. Harry rolled out of the way as his charm wore off, releasing Snape's hex and Harry's killing curse. The curse, aimed where Snape had been standing, continued its trajectory, whizzing past the shoulder of an unflinching Dumbledore and smashing the cobblestone behind him.

Albus Dumbledore had arrived, wand out and wearing a face that had been the last thing many death eaters had ever seen.

And he was looking at Snape.

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Harry had never known Dumbledore as a great warrior or mighty wizard. He was like his grandfather, the kind, wise old man that had collected him from the ruins of his old home with the Dursleys. He loved him, even looked up to him, but fear him? Never.

He was aware, though, of the affect the old man had on _other _people. There had been times when Dumbledore's jolly laugh had silenced a room, when his stern gaze reduced proud, arrogant wizards to little more than frightened dogs. Harry had learned to expect these reactions, but he never really understood why occurred. He recognized intellectually that Dumbledore was powerful, but his heart could not be convinced to fear someone who would he knew would never, ever hurt him.

But seeing Dumbledore's face as he looked at Snape, Harry began to understand. He hoped he would never grow to fear his wise old mentor, but if _this _was what Dumbledore was like during the last Great War, then it definitely made _sense _that people were afraid of him.

Seeing him like that unnerved Harry, and he wasn't even on the receiving end of that fearsome glare.

"Harry, are you injured?" asked Dumbledore, sill locking eyes with Snape

Harry hesitantly shook his head, still resisting his fight or flight response.

"Neville…"

Dumbledore glanced down to ground where Neville's limp body was splayed.

"Just stunned." He looked over to Hermione. "Though I imagine Ms. Granger will be needing some attention."

Harry nodded and started to get up.

Snape whirled around to point his wand at Harry, only for Dumbledore's disarming charm to hurl him against the wall like a rag doll.

"You. Shall. Not." Hissed Dumbledore.

Snape, now wandless, got on all fours, coughing from the impact.

"Albus…" he gasped, 'The boy…. Not as he seems!"

Dumbledore looked down on the potions master through his half moon glasses.

"I know."

Snape nearly collapsed. "What?!"

He looked incredulously at Harry, who was holding Hermione's ruined arm as his magic mended broken bones and slid them back into place. Even her flesh was beginning to knit itself back together.

Harry shook his head "There'll be scars, I can't…."

Dumbledore waved him off. "Madame Pomfrey is more than capable."

Snape steadied himself on a wall as he righted himself, all the while with Dumbledore's wand pointed straight at him.

"The boy… You knew?" He shook his head. "I demand an explanation!"

Dumbledore gave Snape a smile, though it was not a cheerful one "Ah, you _demand_ an explanation, do you Severus? Perhaps you could first explain to me why you felt it necessary to assault two of my students, stunning one and attempting to kill another? Perhaps you could tell me why your first instinct was to attack Harry instead of helping his injured friend, who was seriously injured in a troll attack?"

Snape pointed a shaky finger at Harry. "_He" _hissed the professor, "has cast an unforgivable, the killing curse, twice, and one time in an attempt to kill _me! _He cast it _wandlessly, _Albus, I didn't even know that was possible! He has to be an imposter, a dark wizard, perhaps Voldemort himself, here to steal the philpsopher's stone!"

Dumbledore's smile widened, though his eyes grew darker.

"I doubt that, Severus. The Philosopher's stone is already gone."

Snape nodded. "Good, away from here. It was a bad idea to keep it here. If the goblins couldn't guard it, how could we…"

"No, Severus." Whispered Dumbledore. "It's gone, taken. Stolen."

The last of Hermione's bones popped into place. Her body fell limp with relief, and with a sigh, she passed out.

There wasn't a sound in the room.

"What?" whispered Snape, shocked.

"When, by who?"

"Quirrel." Answered Dumbledore flatly. "We have reason to believe that he was working for Voldemort, maybe even possessed by his spirit. He took it. I was just alerted by Sir Nicholas that he was spotted outside the third floor corridor, apparently making use of some tool that allowed him to teleport out of the school. He had the stone, and we cannot trace his route. It. Is. Gone."

Snape didn't move, he hardly even breathed.

"The Dark Lord…." He whispered.

"Yes, Severus." Confirmed the old wizard. "Voldemort now has in his possession the instrument of his return." He laughed bitterly. "I believe he shall be among the living again… any day now, really."

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Author's notes:

Something I read once: if you want to give Frodo a lightsaber, you have to give Sauron the death star. Every new advantage must be balanced by an even greater challenge. Volemort still needs some pumping up, but for now, I think a little head start is enough to get things rolling.

Volemort returns _now._


End file.
